


Tattoo

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-26
Updated: 2006-03-26
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: The final nail in the coffin of the Island Fic Challenge.





	Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Angst, memories, poetic liscence, a bit of sap. Oh and Daniel's ass.  


* * *

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes. But that's part of it. Makes it more..."

"Real?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Cold, dull gray walls. Like home. No. Like familiarity. Nothing to figure out. No image to complete. Nothing to distract from what 'is to be done'. Like a long, straight, gray road. Punctuated by moments of sheer terror, chaos and pain. It fit like an old shoe except now I could feel the hole in the soul where my awareness scraped on concrete. 

Not so easy to put away the sky, sea and sun now. Still, half a lifetime of training sustained, made simple the act of putting life away for later, to make way for duty. Work. Made it simple. Not to be confused with easy. 

Clothes on pegs; shoes and wallet and individuality stowed in a locker. And the essence of sweat, steam and people swirled and made final the last vestiges of freedom. Made a dream of the sea. 

The hard, welcome jet of hot water soothed and relaxed and distracted, but I never stayed in for long. Quick wash, quick rinse; old habits die hard. Or never died. 

I turned from the shower, clouds and steam lifted and I saw the Sun. And all my careful packing, negating, and denying wicked away with the mist. The delicate shell of his ear; the strong sweep of muscles from his hip up his back; hot bodies twisting in cool, turquoise water; freedom wide as the sky. And the Sun. Right there. On Daniel's ass. It's swirling, twining design curled across his flank, around the swell of his ass, black, but not dark.

Seeing it, I knew I'd never be without the sky again. All I had to do was look. Right now the sense memory was too quick, too insistent. I had to look away, button it down, wrap it up and protect it. But now it was there. Like a bridge or a door. Or a gate.

* * *

"Daniel, it hurts."

"I know."

"It's not..."

"Yeah, I know."

Silence.

"Jack, we can do this."

Silence.

"It hurts."

"Maybe that makes it more real?"

"No."

"I've seen you do much harder things."

Silence.

"No."

"No?"

"I've never done anything this hard."

Silence.

"It's not forever, Jack."

"Yeah, I know."

"So."

"So."

Fin


End file.
